Pronghorn have captured my heart since childhood. Growing up in the San Luis Valley in Colorado,
they were plentiful along the foothills. Nearly every weekend, Mom and Dad would take their brood to
the mountains, five kids in all. On occasion, we were fortunate enough to see the pronghorn close to
the road and they would 'bolt' as though they were spooked, but they didn't run away. They turned
and challenged the old Suburban, racing beside us along the fence line while a car full of eager
Russell kids squealed with delight! And the pronghorn were on the OTHER side of the fence, with
plenty of room to peel off... they just wanted to race! Dad would pace the vehicle so we could gauge
their speed, and I remember the effortless flow of the herd as they dashed beside us.